


Private Time

by flowerfan



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, First Kiss, First Time Together, Fluff, Friendship, Graduate School, Light hearted silliness, M/M, Not just solo activities, Solo activities during quarantine, That really says it all, Voyeurism, grad student!Blaine, grad student!Kurt, quarantine can get you down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: One thing about being in quarantine with your grad school roommates... you hardly get anyprivate time...
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 167
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine is generally very happy living in the somewhat rickety four-bedroom house he shares with three other grad students. It’s not too far from school, it’s got a workable washer and dryer in the basement, and the kitchen was renovated sometime in the past twenty years so it’s perfectly adequate for making whatever quick meals he manages to scrounge together after class.

But boy, are the walls thin.

This hasn’t been a problem until recently, when COVID-19 struck. School has gone online, but unlike the undergrads, Blaine and his roommates have a lease and all of them decided to endure the quarantine here in Somerville, Massachusetts rather than go home. According to Kurt, Somerville may not be where he wants to end up, but it’s far better than the Midwest town he grew up in and he has no desire to weather the quarantine back in Lima.

Thanks to the quarantine, Blaine has learned this and many more facts about his flatmates – and yes, they have all taken to calling it a flat, after an evening which started out with teasing Sam about how he likes to talk with a fake British accent turned into one of the most carefree nights Blaine has had in a long time. Apparently all it took was a few bottles of cheap wine and a defrosted cheesecake from Star Market to loosen them all up.

“We’re proper mates, now,” Sam had announced, waving his arms and nearly knocking over a lamp in the process. By the time they had all wandered off to bed, Blaine had learned that Kurt’s favorite singer was Lady Gaga, that Rachel had taken a year off from school to film a television pilot, and that Sam played the guitar rather well, as long as it was country music.

Blaine has liked Sam since they met playing intramural soccer in the fall. So when Sam mentioned last month that they had a spare bedroom, Blaine quickly took him up on the offer. Blaine’s previous apartment was lonely and smelled like something had died in the ceiling, so it was really a no brainer.

What had caught Blaine by wonderful, wonderful surprise, however, was that Kurt Hummel was one of Sam’s roommates. Blaine had seen Kurt perform in a production of Macbeth back in October, and had been mesmerized by the man’s performance. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Kurt was a regular grad student just like he was, not until Sam gave him the tour of the house and Kurt waved to him from the kitchen where he was gossiping with Rachel over skinny margaritas.

With just a smile and a nod and an agreement to take his turn putting out the trash, Blaine gained three roommates, including the guy he had been crushing on for months. Not bad for a Wednesday.

Much to Blaine’s dismay, simply moving into the house didn’t result in any quality time with Kurt. Between school and performances Kurt was hardly ever home, and Blaine’s schedule studying history and music theory was hardly better. Since the stay at home order was put in place, however, it’s a whole new world. Now the four of them can hardly get away from each other.

For the first two weeks of their enforced togetherness, everyone was on their best behavior, and the drama of it all gave them a shared sense of adventure. Kurt sewed them all homemade masks, Blaine carefully organized grocery trips to minimize time in the stores, Sam tried to get them to adopt home fitness routines, and Rachel kept them apprised of the most interesting celebrity bits to watch on You Tube.

But they are entering into week three of the quarantine, and the novelty is wearing off. For one thing, Rachel has been getting more and more demanding about household details (she is constantly editing the chore wheel and claiming someone else did it), and while Kurt generally has acted as peacemaker when confronted with Rachel’s whims, even he seems to be getting tired of it. Sam hasn’t done his laundry at all since they got locked in, and Blaine is running out of hair gel. Kurt has taken to cleaning the fridge so often that Rachel accused him of stealing cleaning supplies and rubber gloves from health care workers.

They are all becoming short-tempered and irritable. Blaine even catches himself snapping at Kurt, which is the last thing he wants to do. He’s worried that by the time the quarantine lifts, Kurt will never want to speak to him again, let alone date him.

Blaine has a few tried and true strategies for when he gets like this, but none of them are working. Sam insists on running with him every time he goes out, and his well intentioned chatter prevents Blaine from finding any escape. He can’t let off steam by boxing, because his gym is closed. And as for the things he really knows would do the trick, especially after an afternoon of watching Kurt do ballet stretches in yoga pants, well… the walls of their apartment are very, very thin.

Blaine knows this because Sam apparently feels no shame in indulging in his own solo activities. It’s easy to hear him, even from across the hall. Given that Blaine’s bedroom shares a wall with Kurt’s, there’s no way Blaine’s going to risk Kurt hearing anything of the sort from Blaine’s room.

Towards the end of the third week, Rachel calls a roommate meeting. Blaine has just finished an endless zoom call with his research supervisor, and he feels like his eyes are going to pop out of his head if he doesn’t get his contacts out soon. But Rachel insists, so they all gather in the sitting room, Sam and Blaine on the lumpy brown couch, and Kurt sitting on the edge of an armchair, looking to Blaine like he could be posing in a fashion magazine.

“Thank you for coming,” Rachel begins, as if they had any real choice in the matter. She launches into an overview of their past few roommate meetings, and brings up an excel spreadsheet on her computer, on which she has apparently made further edits to the chore wheel.

Blaine tries not to be distracted by the way the asymmetrical neckline of Kurt’s cashmere sweater drapes over his collarbone when he leans forward to look at Rachel’s chart.

“So I decided on Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays,” Rachel says, looking around the room for approval. Blaine realizes he has lost the plot completely, but luckily he’s not the only one.

“Wait, what?” Sam asks. Kurt has found a nail file somewhere and isn’t paying much attention either, but his mouth quirks up at little at Sam’s question, so he’s probably glad Sam is taking the blame for this one too.

Rachel lets out a long suffering sigh, and places an Amazon box on the table. “As I said, I haven’t been able to use the practice rooms for weeks now, and my vocal production is suffering. I need to be able to focus properly on allowing my voice to soar over my accompaniment at its expected volume, without having to censor myself.”

Sam still looks confused, and Rachel glares at him. “I need to listen to loud music, and sing loudly, ok? So I got these for all of us.”

Sam frowns. “I don’t mind if you sing, Rach.”

Rachel’s hands clench at her sides. “It’s not about you, it’s about me.” Kurt coughs not indiscreetly into his hand, but Blaine doesn’t quite catch what he says. “I need you all to wear these, for an hour, three times a week. I’ve clearly marked this as private time on our schedule, from 11 to midnight, Saturdays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays.”

“But what if-“

“Sam, let it go,” Kurt says. “We’re all missing _private time_ these days.” Kurt stands up and smooths his hands down his skin tight jeans. “It’s fine with me, Rachel.”

Blaine stands up too, and peers into the box, then takes out a set of headphones. They are high end noise-cancelling models, clearly expensive, and probably quite effective. “These are great, Rachel. Thanks. But you didn’t have to do this. I’m sure we could have worked something out so you could practice.”

Rachel glares at him now too, and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “I _have_ worked it out.  
Private time commences at eleven o’clock on each designated night. I expect you all to go to your rooms, and wear the headsets. It’s the least we can do to help preserve our collective mental health during this trying time. Do I have your agreement?”

They all agree, and Rachel smirks, satisfied. Blaine chalks it up to roommate harmony and sets about seeing what he can make for dinner out of tortillas, one cucumber, and three apples (answer: nothing, they eat frozen pizza).

Later that evening, he and Sam are on the couch trying to find something to watch on Netflix. Suddenly Sam leans over and slaps Blaine on the shoulder.

“Ow, Sam, what was that for?”

“I know why Rachel got the headphones for us,” Sam announces, grinning crazily, “It’s so she can have a wank!”

Blaine attributes Sam’s ongoing affinity for British slang to the amount of Sherlock fanfic he’s been reading lately, but now really isn’t the time to get into it.

He reflexively starts to deny it, but then he realizes with a flush of embarrassment that Sam is probably right. Sam watches his face and his grin gets even bigger.

“She’s kind of a genius, isn’t she?” Sam grabs a set of headphones and bounds away up the stairs.  


“Sam,” Blaine calls out, wanting to remind him that it’s Monday, and therefore no private time is scheduled. Not that it’s stopped Sam before.

The next night Rachel reminds them all after dinner that private time will begin precisely at eleven o’clock. After a group viewing of the first episode of Deadwater Fell (during which Blaine divided his attention between watching David Tennant, watching Kurt, and watching Kurt watch David Tennant), Rachel checks the time on her phone and orders them all upstairs. At five minutes to eleven, she screams “put your headphones on,” and slams the door to her bedroom.

Blaine thinks this is all fairly ridiculous, but he puts on the headphones anyway, and settles on his bed with his laptop. He surfs around for a while, finding clips of some noteworthy Shakespeare productions (okay, fine, it’s Benedict Cumberbatch playing Hamlet), but then his mind starts to wander. Being cooped up with his roommates has been… constraining… for him too, and maybe he should go ahead and take advantage of the private time Rachel has arranged for them.

Blaine makes himself more comfortable and slides a hand down his body, wondering if his roommates are doing the same. Wondering, especially, if Kurt is doing the same. He unzips his fly and takes himself in hand, letting out a long sigh at the sensation – and then freezing when he hears himself. Blaine quickly realizes that as he got comfortable on the bed, the headphones had slipped off his ears.

And if he can hear himself, what if Kurt can hear him too?

Any interest in solo activities leaves him in a flash, and Blaine quickly zips himself up and plants his feet on the floor. He makes sure the headphones are properly situated on his ears, and spends the remaining twenty minutes of private time organizing his sock drawer.

The next morning his roommates seem downright cheery, and Blaine starts to regret his nerves. It would have been nice to get a little relief from the stress of quarantine, even at the risk of potential embarrassment. Maybe he just needs to be quieter, next time.

Thursday night Blaine fluffs his pillows and arranges himself on the bed face down, so that any noise he makes will be muffled. This turns out to be a brilliant idea, and he has quite a good time imagining that Kurt is underneath him, writhing and squirming and rutting against him, all long lines and warm skin. It’s not a pillow stifling his cries, it’s Kurt’s wet mouth…

When Blaine finally comes to, he feels a little guilty, but he’s more relaxed than he’s been in weeks. Maybe he’ll get through this quarantine after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think... do you want a chapter two?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the reaction to this fic has just blown me away. Thank you for all your kind words, it's great to know you are all out there and still reading Klaine fic.
> 
> You asked for another chapter, so here it is!

Kurt Hummel prides himself on being able to survive just about anything, from small town bigots to drama school divas. But this quarantine thing is really getting to him.

It’s not that he has any problems with his roommates, far from it. He’s known Rachel since high school, and his fondness for her more than balances his aggravation. Sweet and goofy Sam became part of their trio of friends last year when Kurt had thought about starting a band, and Sam had shown up at the audition. While the band didn’t take off, Kurt will never forget Sam’s rendition of “Nothing On But The Radio.” Priceless.  


But then there’s Blaine. Even thinking about the guy makes Kurt go weak in the knees. It’s not like Kurt to be so affected by a pretty face, even one peeking out from under wet curls as he scoots down the hall after his evening shower with just a towel wrapped low around his hips. Kurt prides himself on his restraint when it comes to opening up to the possibility of romance, but with Blaine, it has been a challenge.

It started with that damn a capella benefit Rachel dragged him to. As if he needed to spend an evening watching preppy kids grinning at each other while they sang poorly re-arranged pop tunes. “It’s for a good cause, Kurt,” Rachel had argued. “And it’s not just the college groups. Everyone at the university can participate. I would be performing, too, if I wasn’t saving my voice.”

And so an hour into a dreadfully dull evening of twenty-somethings trying to relive their high school musical glory days, Kurt had his first experience of nearly losing his mind over Blaine Anderson. Amidst a sea of mediocrity, Blaine came on stage and performed Sondheim’s _Not While I’m Around_ without accompaniment. Kurt felt like he was coming apart. He was so wrecked that he left the theater immediately after Blaine’s performance and spent the rest of the evening stalking around campus, furious with himself for losing his cool.

That night while his roommates were still out, Kurt indulged himself in a way he hadn’t done in ages. First a lavender scented bubble bath, then a long solo session in between fresh, clean sheets. It was okay to fantasize about Blaine Anderson, he was just a guy on a stage, Kurt didn’t know him from Adam (and he was way, way hotter than Adam with or without his Apples). Kurt found himself humming “nothing’s gonna harm you, no sir” halfway through and didn’t even censor himself, reveling in the thought that his fantasy Blaine would protect him from all the demons of the world.

After that, Kurt felt like he saw the guy everywhere – ducking out of the campus coffee shop, running in the early morning chill, giving Sam a warm hug before they parted ways after class. Kurt had sort of known that Sam was bringing Blaine to see his performance of Macbeth, but had managed to block it out until afterwards, when Sam trotted backstage with Blaine on his heels. Blaine’s shy smile and soft blush when he offered Kurt his congratulations had rendered him nearly speechless.

And then the unthinkable happened. They had held off on finding a fourth person to share the rent for several months, mostly because Rachel thought that sharing their single decent shower with two guys was as much as she could stand, but money was tight for all of them and it seemed silly to let the room stay empty. Before they had even had a chance to advertise the vacancy Sam came home one afternoon with Blaine, announced that he had found them a perfect flatmate, and started giving Blaine the tour. Kurt had nearly choked on his skinny margarita.

There wasn’t much time to dwell on his crush before the quarantine, but now, Blaine is everywhere. Kurt tries to count how many different black polo shirts the man has, just to prove himself he could look but still retain a modicum of brain power, but he fails miserably. Instead his eyes keep sliding down to where Blaine shirt’s is tucked around his slender waist, just before his red pants curve over the best ass Kurt has ever seen. 

When Rachel announces the _private time_ schedule Kurt immediately knows what she is up to. If Sam and Blaine knew her better, they would have caught on faster as well – since when did Rachel Berry mind if anyone heard her sing? It’s a lame cover-up, but before Kurt can open his mouth and say so, he realizes how useful Rachel’s plan could be. So he stands up, smooths his hands down over his pants, and high-tails it upstairs to the privacy of his room before his pants get even tighter.

That first night, Kurt doesn’t have any intention of participating. He’s feeling rather superior, if he is honest with himself. Randy Rachel and lack of self-control Sam may have an urgent need to take care of business, but Kurt Hummel won't give in to that. He puts on his headphones, pulls out an old voice lesson journal, and goes through some exercises himself. Rachel may have been joking about the need for private rehearsal time, but Kurt is nothing if not career focused, and he hasn’t had much of an opportunity for honing his craft lately either.

After he finishes the exercises in his journal, Kurt gets out his phone and some earbuds – he’s got some vocal tracks on his phone which split the parts, the lead coming through on one side and the harmony parts on the other. Just as he’s finding the track he wants to start on and is fiddling with his left earbud, which for some unknowable reason keeps falling out of his ear, he hears a long, low moan.

Kurt freezes, earbud dangling from his hand. It’s Blaine, that much is obvious from the direction of the sound, and from the fact that it seems to be coming from right next to him, where only a wall divides his room from Blaine’s. Somehow that one drawn-out expression of need has shot right through him, heating up his entire body. Kurt feels light-headed and almost forgets to breathe.

Overwhelmed, Kurt panics. He scrambles to grab the noise-cancelling headphones and clamp them over his ears, and dives under his duvet. It’s too much, and it’s inappropriate to think about, but at the same time it’s impossible not to imagine. It’s Blaine, with his hand on his private parts, making that incredibly sexy noise just a few feet away from Kurt. Kurt is never going to make it through this quarantine.

By the next morning Kurt has regained his equilibrium. He spends most of the day firmly (but not _firmly,_ Kurt thinks, bad word choice, sternly, yes, very sternly, god that’s hardly better, hardly, stop it, I’m dying, I’m being slain by my own internal monologue) telling himself that he is not going to participate any further in Rachel’s ridiculous plan. Tomorrow, their next scheduled private time night, Kurt will simply go for a walk. Walking is good for him, he could use the exercise and fresh air, and he doesn’t do it nearly as much as he should. He’ll even wear the new mask he made from a Prada dust bag (there’s no need to abandon style, just because there’s a pandemic).

But on Thursday night when he tells Rachel he’s going out she cackles at him like she’s auditioning for the Wicked Witch of the West, and points with a shaking finger to the window. It’s raining, a veritable deluge. Kurt growls at her and goes upstairs.

Fine. It’s all fine. He can do this. It’s nothing to feel shameful about, even if everyone in the house knows he’s doing it. They’re all doing it too. 

Kurt lights a candle (sandalwood), finds some of the expensive body lotion he saves for special occasions, and makes himself comfortable. Soon his thoughts are wandering to how a certain someone looked this morning, sitting out on the back porch with Sam. They had both been fooling around on their guitars, and Sam was teasing Blaine about how his hair kept falling into his eyes. Sam had even reached out and pushed an errant, gel-free curl away from Blaine’s face…

That should have been Kurt. He would have waited until Blaine finished playing a gentle love song (“the things you do endear me to you, ah you know I will… I will”) and looked up expectantly at him, a hesitant smile on his face. Kurt would have leaned close to Blaine, seeing his long lashes flutter as he softly pressed his palm to Blaine’s smooth cheek. Kurt would have threaded his fingers through Blaine’s dark hair, and they would have laughed together, barely audible to anyone else, and then Kurt would have pulled Blaine in for a breathtaking, awe-inspiring first kiss.

Kurt climaxes with an unexpected grunt, and then presses his face into his pillow. That was embarrassingly fast, even for a fantasy. He’s going to have to do better. At least he needs to get to the part where he can grab Blaine’s ass in his hands and give it a good squeeze. Who knows what kind of noises Blaine might make when his ass is fondled just right. Kurt might even have to think about sliding those tight red pants down over Blaine’s luscious curves, moving his hands up and down and around, letting his fingers explore and press in… 

Kurt realizes he’s getting hard again, and much to his dismay, he soon goes for round two like a horny teenager. 

It rains all day on Friday, and Saturday morning is equally gloomy, ruining their plans to make lunch and take it to campus for an appropriately socially distant picnic. Sam comes up with an alternate plan that involves bartering for a packet of yeast (the sister of one of his rugby mates thought ahead and purchased large quantities from a restaurant supply store) and making homemade bread, and Blaine sunnily agrees to bike to the other side of town to pick it up. Kurt volunteers some of his masks to use as a trade, and by noon, they are all assembled in the kitchen, ready to start their day’s project.

Kurt has made bread a million times (okay, maybe just two or three), so they all look to him for guidance. It turns out to be way more fun than Kurt had expected, even more so when he keeps catching Blaine looking at him shyly from under those ridiculously long lashes. When they all start giggling at the mess they’ve made and Blaine reaches out and tries to wipe flour off of Kurt’s nose, Kurt thinks he’s never been happier.

That night they eat their bread with the remains of various cheeses and drink more wine than Kurt had thought they had left in the house. He’s feeling loose and safe in his skin when Blaine flops down on the couch next to him, holding out a bowl of strawberries. “These go great with the bread,” Blaine says, which is what they’ve been saying about everything they have eaten that night.

Kurt doesn’t argue and pops a strawberry in his mouth. “Yeah, they do.”

Blaine focuses his big brown eyes on Kurt, and then leans in and draws his finger just along the edge of Kurt’s mouth, making him shiver.

“Powdered sugar,” Blaine explains, and then shuffles even closer to Kurt on the couch. It’s like he’d done earlier today, but this time his voice comes out in a caramel draped baritone. “You’ve got a little here, too.” Blaine touches a fingertip to Kurt’s cheek, and then then blushes furiously and lets his hand drop.

Kurt can’t resist, Blaine is simply too enticing. Blaine’s done all the hard work anyway, his blush speaking as eloquently as any Shakespeare sonnet. “I think you’ve still got flour in your hair,” Kurt says, reaching out and twining a curl around his finger. It’s just as soft as he imagined, and Blaine lets out a little sigh in response and leans his head into the touch. 

Kurt takes a deep breath, his whole body trembling. Blaine’s eyes rise to meet his, and Kurt cups Blaine’s cheek and pulls Blaine in for a kiss.

It’s better than his fantasy, of course it is. Blaine tastes of strawberries and wine, his stubble scrapes ever so gently against Kurt’s skin, and he’s warm and alive under Kurt’s hand. They move closer on the couch, knees and thighs and shoulders pressing against each other. Blaine’s tongue darts out to trace Kurt’s lips, and then Kurt opens his mouth and the kiss deepens, harder and gentler in turns, until Kurt forgets that anything else exists in the world except for this.

When they finally part, breathless and wide eyed, Rachel and Sam have disappeared. Kurt glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s after eleven. Blaine’s glance follows his, and then he beams at Kurt, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes.

“It’s private time,” Blaine says, and Kurt blinks at him, momentarily confused. The earnest expression on Blaine’s face sure doesn’t look like he’s interesting in putting an end to their not-so-solo activities, and neither does the hand he’s holding out to Kurt.

“Care to accompany me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! So... what kind of things are you enjoying during quarantine? Hopefully there's something to keep you sane, even if it's not as much fun as Blaine and Kurt are having!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, your comments fed my muse, and I decided we all wanted to know what happened next (including Sam).

Sam is at his desk, surfing the web for something to spice up his own _private time_ session, when he hears Blaine and Kurt coming up the stairs. 

“Shhh…” Blaine says, laughing too hard to actually be quiet. “They’ll know we aren’t in our rooms.”

“Aren’t they supposed to have headphones on?” Kurt asks.

There’s a thump, and a shuffle, and Sam suddenly clues in, a thrill running through his body. It finally happened. He _knew_ those two were crushing on each other.

“Oh my god, that’s so good,” Blaine moans, and it sounds like he’s right outside Sam’s bedroom door. “Do it again.”

Are they just kissing? Or… more?

“I will,” Kurt says, his voice throatier than Sam has ever heard it. “But let’s at least go inside. My room or yours?”

“Don’t care,” Blaine responds. “Come on.”

Holy shit, his flatmates are definitely making out – snogging – right there in the hallway. Sam is tempted to go see, but then he hears a door open and close. 

He’s disappointed for a minute, but then clearly hears another thump and accompanying moan. Of course, the walls in this apartment are so ridiculously thin, there’s really no privacy at all. This has never bothered Sam, and now it seems to have an extra perk.

He strains his ears and grins at what he hears.

“God, Blaine, you’re so gorgeous.”

“No, you’re gorgeous, Kurt, you are. You’re amazing.”

“Mmm, tell me more. If you’re so sure, give me details.”

Wow, Kurt is demanding. No surprise. It’s really hot.

Sam practically holds his breath to see how Blaine will react, but he shouldn’t have worried. Blaine is completely on board. “Your eyes are stunning, and the way you hold yourself, god, just every time you walk into a room, I can’t take my eyes off of you. And… your hair is so… so…”

“Come on, if we’re talking about hair, you clearly win.”

There’s an audible sigh. “My hair is a rat’s nest, and I’ve been out of gel for weeks.”

“Your hair is fantastic. It’s so soft.”

A low moan. “Oh my god, Kurt, that feels great.”

Sam imagines Kurt running his fingers through Blaine’s hair. Whatever is going on, Kurt and Blaine are both clearly enjoying it, although Sam thinks they’re getting a little off topic.

“I can lend you some product, you know. It’ll help the curls keep their shape, but tame it all a little bit. I can even give you a trim.”

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I’ve got a nice sharp scissors in my crafting kit. I’ve cut hair dozens of times.”

There’s a pause, and Sam wonders what happened.

“Kurt?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we can talk about my hair some other time?”

Kurt barks out a laugh that Sam has never heard before, and then there’s silence again.

Sam’s curiosity gets the best of him after a few minutes, and he carefully peeks out into the hallway. It’s empty, of course – Rachel is probably dutifully wearing her headphones, even if the rest of them aren’t – and so he leaves his room, crosses the hall, and slides down to the floor, his head resting against the door to Kurt’s bedroom.

Now he can hear them even better. Sounds like more kissing. A little nipping, maybe. Tugging at each other’s lips. Nice.

“God, I love kissing you,” Blaine says. Sam can just imagine the look on his face. Blaine gets so enthusiastic when he’s excited. 

“Me too, me too,” Kurt says. “You taste so good.”

“That’s Sam’s cherry chapstick,” Blaine says, and Sam snorts, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. Careful, he thinks to himself. 

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Kurt replies. “That’s all you.” Whatever Kurt does next must be particularly good, because he hears Blaine take a sharp intake of breath, and sigh out Kurt’s name.

Are they still just kissing?

“Oh god, Kurt,” Sam hears, and then the soft sound of something sliding to the floor. A shirt? Blaine was wearing one of his black polos, that could be it. Or that tight button-up Kurt had on.

Sam squirms a little, pressing his hand to his dick, over his shorts. It’s definitely is starting to take a serious interest in the proceedings. He’s always thought he was at least a little bit bi. This is pretty good confirmation. 

“Blaine, look at you. God, your shoulders…”

There’s another one of those little sharp breaths from Blaine, and Sam slides his hand under the elastic waistband of his shorts, reaching down. 

“Your neck is sensitive, isn’t it,” Kurt murmurs. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave a mark.”

“Feel free,” Blaine breathes out. “I want you to.”

“Yeah? Okay.”

Sam can’t take it anymore, and wraps his hand around himself, just holding on at first. He looks around the still empty hallway. He’s not really going to have a wank right here, is he? Just toss one off where anyone could see?

“That’s good, your mouth, wow…”

“Love the way you taste here, just in this spot…”

“That’s my, uh, collarbone, not really very interesting… ooh – wow, teeth, uh…”

“Sorry, did I nibble too hard?”

“No, it’s… good... I like it.”

“How about here? I won’t bite this time.”

“Ohh…” Blaine is practically whining, and Sam starts to stroke himself. This is better than any online porn, ever.

“You like that? Not every guy has sensitive nipples.”

“Holy crap, Kurt, yeah, yeah, I like it.”

“Want me to go harder? Mmmm, perking right up for me… you do like that… now, let me pay some attention to the other one… such pretty little nubs…”

Blaine whines again, a high, needy sound, and Sam grabs himself tight around the base of his dick. He doesn’t want to come too soon, this is too much fun.

“Fuck, Kurt, I need…”

“What?”

Blaine just moans, and Sam throbs in response.

“How about we get these off? Gotta be getting a little tight.” He can hear the smile in Kurt’s voice. “Even tighter than normal.”

Damn it, Kurt’s talking about those red pants Blaine likes to wear, the ones that cup his ass so well. Sam’s never understood how Blaine can wear them so snug, it’s like they’re painted on.

“You’re one to talk,” Blaine pants out. “I’m not the only one with tight pants. The way your legs look in those skinny jeans, Kurt. It should be illegal.”

“Wanna arrest me, officer?” Kurt says, and then they both break out into breathy laughter.

“Too much?” Kurt asks.

“God, I don’t know, my head is spinning so hard right now, I can’t even-” Blaine’s voice is cut off, and from the slurping sounds Sam thinks they’re probably kissing again. Seriously kissing.

“Blaine, I don’t think it’s just your head that’s hard,” Kurt whispers.

“That doesn’t even make sense. But, yeah, I mean… god, I am. So hard. You are too, right?”

There’s some fumbling noises, and the slick sound of a belt being pulled out through its loops. Then what could be a zipper… 

Sam’s shorts and underwear are getting in the way, so he gives it up and shoves them both down to his ankles and then shakes them off altogether. Much better.

“Blaine, my god, _look_ at you.”

Suddenly Sam desperately wants to look, too, and he can’t resist anymore. He reaches up to the doorknob and ever so slowly, begging the door not to creak, he eases it open until he can just see inside.

Blaine and Kurt are completely naked, their clothes tossed to the ground beside them. They’re standing by the foot of the bed, facing each other. Blaine is mostly turned towards the door, and Sam can see everything… Blaine’s dark hair is sticking up every which way, and there’s a pink flush on his chest, with red splotches around his nipples. Oh god, Sam thinks, that’s from Kurt’s mouth, sucking and pulling on each one. His own chest tingles, and Sam slides a hand across his pecs. He rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and bites his lip to stay quiet as he thinks about Kurt doing this to Blaine.

Of course Sam can’t help but notice Blaine’s cock, rock hard and standing at attention. Pretty impressive, buddy, he thinks, swallowing hard. Don’t know how you survive keeping it in those tight pants. It’s obviously having much more fun out here in the open.

Kurt is standing with one hip cocked, like a dancer, long and lean. His firm butt is practically in Sam’s face. Sam wills himself not to make a noise. He can’t believe they haven’t noticed him opening the door, but it’s clear that Blaine and Kurt only have eyes for each other.

“Kurt…” Blaine is practically speechless, his eyes wide, and his hands reach out towards Kurt.

“Come here,” Kurt says, and then they’re pressing together, chest to groin. Kurt slides his hands down Blaine’s back and Sam can tell the minute he gets his hands on Blaine’s ass and squeezes, because Blaine nearly shouts in response.

Blaine’s got his forehead pressed against the side of Kurt’s face, apparently too worked up to continue snogging, and Kurt is breathing hard into Blaine’s ear while rhythmically grasping at Blaine’s ass.

“Oh, oh, Kurt, I’m, Kurt-”

Apparently not wanting it all to be over too fast, Kurt slides his hands back up Blaine’s back, easing up until there’s a little space between them. “Hey, what do you say we take this to the bed?”

Blaine pulls back and stares at Kurt for a long moment, until apparently he regains the ability to speak. “Yeah, yes, good idea.”

The two of them scramble on to the bed, Blaine shoving the duvet on to the floor (good call, their washer and dryer really can’t handle blankets, Sam has discovered this the hard way) and settle on their sides, facing each other. Blaine is smiling so hard it looks like his face is going to split open with happiness, and Kurt has blushed a pretty pink.

“Hi there,” Kurt says, running a single finger from Blaine’s cheek, to his shoulder, and down his arm. 

“Hi,” Blaine responds, ducking his head and then looking back up at Kurt through his long lashes. “Wanna fool around?”

Kurt laughs, his head leaning back and exposing his slender neck. “I thought we were.”

Blaine giggles and leans in to Kurt, one hand going to the back of his head to bring their lips together for a long, sultry kiss. Kurt whimpers and grabs Blaine’s shoulder, sliding closer, arms and legs wrapping around each other until it is hard to tell where one stops and the other begins.

The kiss slows, mellowing, with more finesse than the first round. Sam wonders what it would be like to be kissed like that, like the person kissing you wanted to discover everything about you, right down to your bones.

“Oh god, Blaine, this is good,” Kurt says, threading his fingers through Blaine’s hair. Blaine’s hands are moving over Kurt’s bare back, one hand slowly moving down to Kurt’s ass.

“Mmm, yeah,” Kurt encourages, and Blaine’s hand drops lower, exploring. When his fingers press into Kurt’s crack Kurt lets out a high pitched noise and Blaine freezes, but then Kurt shakes his head against Blaine’s face and pants into his ear. “No, don’t stop. Keep going, please.”

Blaine plays with Kurt’s ass a little more, pressing and sliding a finger in, and Sam wonders if it would be too forward to find them some lube. He’s wishing he had a little himself, although there’s enough moisture now from his own pre-come that things are going along just fine.

Kurt is rutting hard against Blaine’s thigh now, and Blaine seems to decide that it’s time to take matters in hand, so to speak. They shuffle around, Blaine reaching between them, and they both start to moan. Sam barely restrains himself from joining in, his hand now moving furiously up and down his cock.

Sam can’t see exactly what’s going on between Blaine and Kurt’s sweaty bodies, but he thinks Blaine is jerking them both, and doing a mighty fine job. Sam puts a finger in his mouth and sucks hard, then reaches down to cup his balls, rolling them softly in his palm.

“Kurt, come here, just like-” Blaine slides a leg in between Kurt’s, getting Kurt’s leg up and over his hip. Kurt is lying halfway on top of him now, one knee a little bent, giving them some room between them to maneuver. One of Blaine’s hands is back to gripping Kurt’s ass, and the other is lost between them, where Kurt seems to be helping him out.

Oh god, they’re jerking each other off, maybe both holding on to their cocks together, pressing them against each other, silk pulling over the hardness of their erections, fuck, fuck, fuck- 

Sam moves his hand faster on his cock, adding a twist near the tip, down and up and twist and over and over again. He shifts until he’s almost flat on the floor, his head angled so he can see still through the tiny opening into the room. Luckily Blaine and Kurt are providing a steady narration, and are clearly getting close to the finale.

“Blaine, that’s good, oh, fuck, yeah-” 

“Kurt, yeah, that’s it, keep going-”

“Oh, Blaine, please, yes-”

“Oh fuck, come on, come on-”

“Blaine, oh god, yeah, Blaine-”

Their words turn into long, low moans, and then Sam feels himself coming hot and wet over his hand. 

“Oh my god, Kurt, that was amazing.”

“Blaine… wow. Come here. Wow.” Kurt hums softly, and Blaine responds in kind, both of them breathing hard as they catch their breath.

Sam watches as Blaine curls up against Kurt, his head on Kurt’s chest, and a dazed and happy smile on his face. Sam can’t help smiling too.

Sam’s cock pulses out another spurt. His legs are numb. He feels fantastic. 

Private time is the best idea Rachel Berry has ever had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "... now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!” 
> 
> Rachel isn't so fond of private time anymore.

It’s a Wednesday afternoon (or maybe Tuesday? Blaine isn’t sure, the days are blending together so much he can hardly tell, they’re months into quarantine by now) and he is sitting around the coffee table with Sam and Kurt playing What Do You Meme. It’s a dumb game even in the best of times, especially without the benefit of alcoholic beverages, but Sam just got the Game of Thrones expansion pack and he begged them to try it. It’s not like they have better things to do.

Just as Kurt is complaining again about what to play for a Tyrion card (“he only has one expression, there’s no opportunity for creativity here”) Rachel comes down the stairs and plants herself in front of them, hands on her hips. 

“I think we need to reconsider private time,” she announces, chin in the air.

Blaine’s brain (and a less rational part of his body) immediately sounds an alarm. This is serious. Since he and Kurt have gotten together, private time nights have been, without question, his favorite nights of the week, possibly of his life. There’s no way he can let Rachel do away with private time. He concentrates on keeping his face schooled to his most earnest choir boy expression. “Why, Rachel? What’s wrong?”

Rachel harrumphs and glares at him. Guess the innocent look didn’t work this time. “You know what’s wrong. All of you do.”

Sam, bless his heart, really doesn’t. “Do you need more time to practice? We could add another night. Friday, maybe?”

Rachel turns her glare to Sam. “No, we don’t need _more_ private time.” She drops down onto the less ratty of the two armchairs with a dramatic flounce. “I didn’t think it would be so bad, living with three guys, since two of you are, you know, generally pretty well groomed and understand the critical importance of personal hygiene. And until lately you all seemed fairly well behaved about... stuff. But now you’re always taking up the washer with your nasty sheets, the hallway by Kurt’s room smells awful, and every single package from Amazon is just more lube!” Rachel’s voice cracks at this last bit, and she buries her head in her hands.

“That’s not true, Rachel, our last Amazon box had this new card game expansion pack-”

Rachel whips her head up and Sam falls silent. “Right, of course, how could I forget – and you were so excited you couldn’t even save it for game night.”

Blaine frowns. “We can save it for game night, Rach. When’s the next one?”

Rachel stands up and points her finger at Blaine, her freshly polished nails catching the light (the color is actually called “Teal the Cows Come Home,” although when Rachel did his toes with it earlier he pointed out that it’s a little too blue to properly be called teal). “Exactly!” 

They all stay quiet as Rachel storms back up the stairs. 

“I don’t even know when the next game night is,” Sam says, dragging his fingers through his blond hair. It’s gotten a bit long these past few months. Maybe Blaine will offer to trim it for him. 

“I think that was her point, Sam.” Kurt rises from the lumpy couch and goes into the kitchen. Blaine and Sam trail after him, and they crowd together to look at the big calendar taped to the refrigerator. It is mostly filled with doodles and alcohol wish lists (“margaritas? Need limes/lemons/Sprite?”). Blaine has to look back two weeks to find a game night.

“Rachel’s feeling left out.” Blaine shifts his gaze to the other two, who quickly slam “not it” fingers on their noses. Blaine sighs. “I’ll go talk to her.”

*****  
Blaine pauses outside Rachel’s door. There’s a shiny gold star with “Diva Sleeping” hanging from the doorknob, and it swings back and forth when he knocks. 

“Who is it?”

Blaine stifles a laugh. There really aren’t that many possibilities. 

“It’s Blaine. Do you want to go for a walk? It’s really nice outside. Sunny and almost seventy.”

“You always go running with Sam.”

This is true, although Blaine still wishes he could just go by himself sometimes. Alas, that is not to be, not if he wants to maintain roommate harmony in these crazy times. “Yeah, I know, but we could just go for a walk. Head over to campus, see what things look like these days.”

There’s a pause, and then a quiet “okay.”

Blaine turns to go back downstairs when Rachel sticks her head out of her door. “Blaine - what should I wear?”

“To go for a walk?”

Rachel narrows her eyes at him. “Yes, that’s what I said. Is this an exercise walk, or a…” she trails off, her eyebrows drawing together as she searches for the word.

“A stroll?” Blaine suggests. It sounds suitably Rachel-appropriate that it might cheer her up.

Rachel allows a little smile to tug at her mouth. “Yes. A stroll.”

“Which do you want it to be?” 

Rachel looks back into her room, and Blaine knows she is considering her outfit choices. It’s fine, he gets this from Kurt all the time. 

“I have a new dress I was going to wear for the music department’s spring awards ceremony…” She looks up at Blaine. “I hate that everything is cancelled.” The ongoing disappointment at everything they look forward to disappearing is hard to escape. Blaine knows how she feels.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Rachel nods, and then straightens her shoulders. “A stroll, then.” She gives Blaine a look that clearly indicates what she thinks of his sweatpants and old Dalton shirt. “You have to change too.”

“Obviously,” Blaine replies, smiling.

When they meet up downstairs a little while later, Blaine is quick to admire Rachel’s pretty pink dress and matching white tote bag adorned with pink and yellow daisies. Rachel beams, and praises Blaine as well (he’s got on a blue shawl neck sweater that he knows Kurt will enjoy petting later, over a pink button up and slim dove gray pants).

“Have a nice time,” Kurt says as they leave, giving Blaine an appreciate wink.

As soon as they get outside, Rachel does a little twirl on the sidewalk. She takes Blaine’s arm as they start off down the street. Blaine takes in a big breath of fresh air, and they exchange a pleased look. This was definitely a good idea.

There are quite a few blocks of residential neighborhood before they get to campus. As they get closer, the rickety multi-family buildings and student apartments give way to more respectable looking houses, interspersed with smaller university buildings. The atmosphere seems strange, though, as it always does these days. It’s definitely not normal without the expected traffic from cars and bicycles – there’s far less of that since everyone is working from home. Most classes are over by this point anyway, but it still seems odd without clusters of students hanging out and walking purposefully here and there. 

At least the weather is starting to get better. New England doesn’t so much have spring as an extended winter followed by surprising sunshine in June.

They make their way through the law school campus, commenting on how the grass miraculously always looks green in the quad. The university is apparently still spending plenty of money on grounds keeping. At least it means some people still have jobs. Rachel lets out a melancholy sigh as they go past the music buildings. “It seems like forever since I practiced with a real piano.”

“I know,” Blaine says, squeezing her arm in sympathy. Then he gets an idea, and wonders why he hasn’t thought of it before. “I can play the piano, you know. I could accompany you on my keyboard, if you wanted. It might be fun, even if we’re just messing around.”

Rachel turns and gives him an appraising look. “Are you any good? Because I don’t want to waste my time if you’re not.”

Blaine isn’t even offended, it’s such a Rachel thing to say. “I am, I promise. But we can try it out and you can judge for yourself. No worries either way.”

Rachel nods. “Okay. Maybe when we get home.”

They pass the big science center and walk through the plaza, stopping for a minute to watch the fountain which sprays water over a bunch of big rocks. Usually this time of year there are tourists congregating here, but today it’s quiet, like everywhere else. 

Blaine gets a whiff of what smells like curry, and he looks around to see that the tandoor food truck is pulled up in its usual space. “Looks like they’re doing call-ahead orders,” Blaine says.

“I would die for some biryani,” Rachel replies wistfully. “And veggie korma. They do such a good job with their vegetarian options. Do you think we could get take-out on our way back?”

“Sure. But we have to let Kurt disinfect the containers before we open anything.”

“Of course,” Rachel says, agreeing easily. They had some heated debates about take-out in the early days of the pandemic, with Blaine arguing that unless they put the food directly into their eyes there was no way for the virus to be transmitted, and Rachel going through a period of intense anxiety about anything that couldn’t itself be quarantined for three days, but after a few weeks their desire for pizza and hot wings won out. Kurt insisted, however, that he be the one to make sure that everything that came into the house was carefully cleaned before they touched it, and that everyone washed their hands before any actual eating commenced. No one objected. It’s been hard to find a balance between feeling safe and living their lives, but they’re doing their best.

Blaine and Rachel pass through a tall ornate metal gate and into the yard. There are a fair number of people here, spread out on the grass enjoying the mild weather. Blaine glances quickly at Rachel. “Do you want to sit for a while?”

She looks around. “It’s more crowded than I imagined it would be.”

“Amazing how quickly we’ve adjusted to the idea that people are dangerous,” Blaine says. He knows how she’s feeling. Even with masks on, and at an appropriately socially distancing six feet away, it doesn’t feel right to be close to other people. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

They weave between the stately brick buildings and find a smaller courtyard with a little less foot traffic. “Perfect,” says Rachel, taking a rolled up sheet out of her bag and spreading it on the grass. They sit down, and Rachel pulls out two bottles of flavored seltzer and a tupperware container with a bunch of grapes and some wheat thins.

“It’s the not most elegant picnic, but I thought it was better than nothing.”

“It’s lovely, Rachel, thank you.”

“I’m sure Kurt would be appalled at the lack of cloth napkins.”

Blaine chuckles. “I wouldn’t know. We haven’t been on a picnic.”

Rachel’s eyes widen. “You haven’t? That’s one of Kurt’s favorite date ideas.”

Blaine frowns. “We haven’t exactly gone on many dates.” _Any_ dates, he thinks to himself. He and Kurt got together in such a weird way, trapped in quarantine for weeks while they crushed on each other until they couldn’t resist any longer. Their date opportunities are severely limited - they can’t go out to restaurants, or coffee shops, or see a movie or a show. While they have the perfect excuse to spend time together, it might be nice to do something special for a change. “I guess I really don’t know what kind of date he’d like.”

“Oh.” Rachel pulls out a grape and pops it into her mouth. “Well, then, you’ve got some thinking to do, haven’t you?”

“What, you don’t think eating every meal in front of the television while Sam tells us how many crunches he did is sexy?”

Rachel grins. “It depends. What is Sam wearing in this scenario?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Blaine pulls a grape off the stem and rolls it around in his fingers. “Maybe you could give me some ideas of things you think Kurt would like? You know him a lot better than I do.”

Rachel gives him a fond smile. “I’d be happy to.” She finishes chewing the cracker in her mouth and lies down on the blanket, closing her eyes. “I miss sex,” she says, and Blaine nearly chokes on his seltzer.

“What?”

“You heard me. Not all of us were gifted with a quarantine-approved boyfriend. I miss sex. The fun, the excitement. The awkward noises. The orgasms.”

Blaine squirms a little but he knows it must have taken Rachel quite a lot to reveal this. Taking a breath, he lies down next to her. She clearly needs to talk, and it might be easier for them both if they aren’t looking at each other.

“Were you, um, dating anyone, before the shut-down?”

Rachel sighs. “Not for a while. I haven’t had a long-term relationship in years, but there were a few promising possibilities.”

“It’s kind of tough to date now,” Blaine says.

“Right?” Rachel sighs. “Some of my friends are still hooking up, you know.”

This strikes Blaine as insane. You can’t hook up from six feet away. “Really?”

“Really. I even thought about it… there’s an old flame I see every once in a while, Jesse. I think he’d be up for it-” Rachel cuts herself off and giggles at her phrasing.

“He’d be crazy not to want to be with you, Rachel, but I don’t think now is a good time. Even if he says he’s healthy, he could be asymptomatic. And then you could get sick, and…” And all of us would catch it, too, Blaine thinks.

“I know, I know. I’m not going to do it.” Rachel shifts and turns on her side, and Blaine turns to face her. “Can I ask you something?”

Suddenly they’re a little too close for comfort, and Blaine tenses. Rachel isn’t going to ask to kiss him, is she? It wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought he’d be open to it, even though Blaine has always been clear that he wasn’t interested in girls that way. But Rachel knows he’s with Kurt, she’d never… well, only one way to find out. At least she’s asking first and not just groping him while he’s drugged up on cold medicine. “Sure, you can ask me anything.”

Rachel bites her lip, then apparently decides to go for it. “Do you think Sam would be interested in me?”

Blaine almost laughs at his own obliviousness. Of course Rachel’s not interested in him, she definitely seems more into the jock type anyway. “Sam? I don’t know, maybe.”

“Come on, you guys are close. You must have some idea. What does he think of me?”

Blaine tries to think of the best way to answer this. “I know he thinks you’re very attractive,” he begins. None of them have missed how Sam practically drools over Rachel when she does yoga with Kurt. Frankly they all leer at each other during yoga. It’s a group leer-fest, everyone’s invited.

“Well, of course,” Rachel says, smiling to show that she’s joking – partially joking, anyway. “But do you think he’d be interested in, you know…?”

Blaine is quite certain that Sam would jump at the chance to get hot and sweaty with Rachel, but he’s not sure what would happen after that. It might make the rest of their quarantine very awkward if things didn’t go well.

“Do you think I intimidate him?” Rachel goes on, pressing the subject. “I do that to people. I know I’m bossy, it’s one of my best traits. I like to tell people what to do. A lot of guys like it.”

Blaine absolutely does not blush, thinking about how he and Kurt have been engaging in some rather arousing professor-student role play. Nope, not thinking about that at all.

“And it doesn’t have to be a big thing-” Rachel snorts. “Although, you know, if it was, that would be fine-” Another snort-giggle. 

Blaine puts his hand over his face. He can’t bring himself to respond.

“I mean it doesn’t need to be too serious,” Rachel goes on. “We can just have a wank together, help each other out. Enjoy some _private time_ but, you know, with mutual orgasms. I know how much Sam enjoys his time alone… he’s very… vocal about it… I bet he wouldn’t mind some company…” Rachel’s voice has acquired a sultry tone Blaine has never heard before. “Blaine… am I making you uncomfortable?” She’s clearly having way too much fun with this, and Blaine can’t decide if he is more amused or embarrassed. In either case, it’s time to change the subject.

“We should probably get back.” Blaine sits up and puts the lid on the tupperware, pressing it down to seal the edges. 

Rachel leans up on an elbow and smirks at him. “Too much information?”

Blaine shakes his head despairingly. “We’ve been in quarantine together for two months, and there’s no end in sight. I think ‘private’ has kind of lost its meaning.”

Rachel stands up and smooths her hands down her dress as Blaine rolls up the blanket. “Well, it’s decided. I’m going to take a long shower, slather myself in body lotion, put on my favorite lace underthings, and proposition Sam. Tonight.”

“But private time isn’t scheduled until tomorrow.”

Rachel looks at Blaine as if he’s gone off his rocker. “I’m not going to spend my private time hooking up with a boy, Blaine. I need all the time I can get for vocal practice. I’m serious about my instrument, and I’m not going to allow this pandemic to get in the way of my future stardom.” Rachel huffs and walks away.

Stunned, Blaine quickly grabs their belongings and follows Rachel, chastising himself. He’s become so used to having relations with Kurt during private time that he forgot private time wasn’t supposed to be for sex. He’s just about to apologize to Rachel when she turns and grins at him, her eyes sparkling with laughter. “Gotcha!”


End file.
